The Flow of Gratitude

I love my river – the mountain stream that runs beside the garden.  I love the stillness that envelops as one follows the path down to the river.  I love that the sound of the water transports one into another world.  Its a place of enchantment – where I learnt about magic.  

I love its ever-changing nature – from a gentle flow to white water wildness.  How torrential rains alter its shape.  I love the iciness and singular smell of the fynbos coloured water.  I love the unexpected deepness in places.  The shallow reflections in others.  It’s a place to lie on one’s back and see the patterns of its tall trees silhouetted against the sky. 

I love how in the driest of summers it squeezes water into quiet pools.  I love that it holds the coolness of the earth in heat of the day.  The moss-covered rocks.  The boatmen that move endlessly in hypnotic circles.  Its a place of contemplation – where I learnt to meditate.

I love that this river is my teacher.  That unplanned, untamed is good – that this opens spaces that otherwise would have remained undiscovered.  I love that it reminds me to slow down.  To stop.  To ingest the beauty of nature.  To breathe.  To be.  To flow.  

I love that this river fills me with gratitude.

In gratitude and love